Lilies For Eltarianel
by Luthien'sLight
Summary: LOTR Fanfiction, ONESHOT, Action/Deep Storytelling/Romance, NO LEMONS YOU THIRSTY PERVERTS.


*Disclaimer*: I do not, in any way, own the LOTR (Oh but dear Lord up in Heaven I wish I did. Or at least that I could have met Tolkein before he died)

*Author's Note*: If a lot of y'all want me to continue the story from different perspectives, I can do that, but mostly it's just designed to be a one-shot. If any of you want to adopt my story to elaborate, go ahead, but for goodness' sake, PLEASE give me credit for the original idea. I accept all constructive critiques, but no flames or criticisms will be listened to. I cannot hear stupidity (a.k.a. requests for lemons) ever, so don't even try. Love you guys! Okay, okay, I'll finally let you read the story. Sheesh, you people are impatient, aren't you? Well? What are you waiting for? Go ahead! Enjoy!

Lilies for Eltarianel

"Halbar*! The Yrchs* are breaking through our lines!"

Calmacil* turned to face the soldier who had burst into the command tent. "Which quadrant?"

"Seventh. Sire, I was the only one of my group to survive. The other quadrants compensated to stem the flow of the enemy, but our Calaquendi* are dropping like flies to the swords of the Yrchs and the death-bringing darts of the Moriquendi*. My Lord, we are on the brink of collapse!"

Calmacil looked for a moment at the man. "You said you were the only survivor? Are there no more of your group who live?"

The Elf looked at his feet. "Eltarianel is alive, but he is as good as dead. He told me to run, and I, like a coward, left him as a dı̯ag*. He is the only one who keeps the accursed Orchun* at bay, for he stands at the front of our Elves, and kills at least half of the number of the enemy before they reach the mass of our backup. But he cannot last for long at the front." The Elf appeared to be about to collapse due to both his legs and his tears.

The Halbar gripped the Elf's shoulder. "It is not yet too late, my friend. We may still save our great warrior." He looked to one of the Calaquendi close to them. "Give me a horse." "But my Halbar-…" "Now!" The man rushed to a horse, untied it, and handed it to his Halbar. The latter now galloped away towards the front of battle, urging his steed as fast as it would go.

He could already distinguish two masses— one bright and shining and another, massively outsizing it, a seething darkness. As he neared the front, his enviable eyesight spotted one figure radiating light, at the front of the lines of brightness, surrounded by a mass of darkness. At times, the light would flash out, seemingly drowned out by the darkness, but it would always resurface, pushing the shadows back. Growing ever closer, Calmacil observed the Elf's combat, his beaming sword flashing back and forth, easily parrying and counter-slicing every opponent's clumsy strike. Calmacil could even see the calm, concentrated smile on the Elf's face as he spun in this mortal dance of combat.

However, just as Calmacil arrived at the scene, the host of evil retreated, showing only one last dark figure, robed in an armor that appeared to be made of the void itself, sword out, pointing down. Calmacil knew, however, what was about to happen, and he tried to get there — knowing it would be of no use — before the deed was done.

The dark figure, raised the sword, aiming it's razor sharp point at the Elf Calmacil knew was Eltarianel. Eltarianel raised his sword above his head and reciprocated the gesture. Another Calaquendi rushed from the ranks to try and stop him, but Eltarianel pushed him — no, her — off him, and aimed his blade once more at the enemy. After five seconds of holding that position, they lowered their swords and began advancing towards each other. The Mahta-Dagor* had begun, and the Mahta-Dagor only ended in death. It was the ultimate challenge: a duel to the death to decide the outcome of the battle. Before he advanced towards the enemy, Eltarianel gently lifted the helmet off the She-Elf, his Altariel, and kissed her deeply. He then began to stalk towards the other combatant. The Moriquendi pointed at the She-Elf and said something clearly mocking, for Eltarianel's face darkened for a split second, before the calm took him over once again. Both armies held their breath. And then, with no warning, both warriors lept into battle. Their blades flashed back and forth, at speeds that even the Elven eye had difficulty following.

The Orchun began to cheer and jeer and chat. The Calaquendi remained silent, expectant. The two combatants spun over and over in this dance of death, neither of them touching the other, neither being touched by their adversary's saber. And then the Moriquendi pulled a knife out of a pocket of his armor, and stabbed Eltarianel in the back. As Eltarianel recoiled in pain and sudden shock, the Dark Elf took the advantage and stabbed him through the torso with his instrument of death, his sword. Eltarianel looked at his Altariel, and smiled gently. As the Moriquendi grinned in triumph, Eltarianel commited the ultimate act of dı̯ag. With one, long scream, he gripped the enemy's sword with one hand, shoved the sword further along his innards, until it ripped out of his back, and clove the Dark Elf's head off his shoulders. The two enemies collapsed together, and neither moved again.

**FOUR YEARS LATER**

Endillos* looked over what had, four years previously, been the death place of her husband and many other brave Elves. Children now ran, unknowingly, over a graveyard. The Moriquendi, while having no honor in battle, had honor enough to admit it was over when finished fairly. As the Moriquendi warrior had died first, it had been judged that the victory went to the Eltarianel — and through him the Calaquendi. There had not been war since then. She slowly walked to where her husband's memorial was, and let float down an indil* over his grave — one of many already lying there. She looked over to her beloved child, toddling along next to her. "Nessë*!" She called to him, and he climbed into her arms. She sighed. Death, begets life. Sacrifice, begets renaissance. Swords, beget flowers. She looked down at her feet. Lilies for Eltarianel.

Halbar: Chieftan

Yrchs: Dictionary term for Orcs

Calmacil: Sword of light/Light-sword

Eltarianel: Light that does not die

Calaquendi: Elves of Light (Seen light from beginning-tree, good)

Moriquendi: Elves of Darkness (Not seen light from beginning-tree, bad)

Dı̯ag: Sacrifice (Especially used in terms of combat/blood sacrifice)

Orchun: Slang, derogatory term for Orcs

Mahta-Dagor: Sword combat to death of honor

Endillos: Flower Of The Plain (Name)

Indil: Lily

Nessë: New life/New Beginning


End file.
